“I never said that.”

“Mind like a steel trap. Trust me, darlin’. You said it. Meant it, too.”

“I meant lots of things when I was in third grade. So did you. If I recall, you were gonna be

‘president of this here United States.’ ”

“I still could be.”

“That’s all we need. A Reed in the White House.”

“I’d make you my Secretary of Defense.”

“You’d better.” Dee glanced at her watch. “Shit. I gotta eat and get out of here.”

“Work?”

“I’m working with KZS now.”

Rory laughed. “Kitty, Inc.? Have fun with that.”

“More like watch my back.”

“If you’re worried, why are you—”

“Too much to explain. Not in the mood.” She dug into her bacon and waffles and no, it wasn’t nearly as good as Ric’s.

“Call me if you need something. Things are kind of quiet right now at the office, so I have time.”

“Everything all right?”

“Things have definitely slowed down, but we are still getting more work than most agencies. I think things will pick up when Bobby Ray’s back at the office full time.”

“He’s not?”

“Spending time with his pup.”

Dee wasn’t surprised by that. Wolf males often invested as much time in their pups as the females.

“What about Mace?”

“He’s got the name that gets the wealthy in, but his personality . . . we’re better with Bobby Ray handling that end.”

“You do it. Until Bobby Ray gets back.”

“Me? Why me?”

“You’re as smooth as Bobby Ray, and don’t pretend you’re not. At least don’t pretend to me.” Dee glanced at her watch again, shoveled the rest of the food into her mouth, followed by a few gulps of scalding hot coffee.

“All right. Gotta go.”

“See ya.”

Dee left her friend’s hotel room and headed out. She wasn’t looking forward to this day, but the faster she could get it over with, the quicker she could be done with Marcella Malone.

Ric was on his computer, playing with his money in his home office, when Mrs. M. walked in.

She’d been Ric’s housekeeper for years and she always took good care of him. She was older now, though, and only worked three days a week, but that was okay with Ric. When one found good staff, especially staff that made the best soda bread and brisket this side of Ireland, one remained flexible.

“Your mother’s here.”

Ric looked up from his financial reports and he knew he was frowning.

“Are you too busy?” she asked.

“No. No, of course not. Just give me a minute.”

“Of course.”

Ric piled together allthe paperwork and put it away in his big safe. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust his mother, but if she was coming to see him, unannounced, it most likely involved his father. And Ric would rather that she didn’t see anything his father would feel the need to drag out of her. His mother was not a very good liar and his father always knew when she was hiding something.

He was back at his desk when Jennifer Van Holtz walked in.

“Ulrich.”

“Mom.” He came around his desk and kissed both her cheeks. “You look wonderful.”

“Thank you.”

He held a seat for her and she sat down. Rather than return to his own chair, he rested his backside against his desk and smiled at her. “So what brings you here?” When she twisted her hands in her lap and looked away, Ric answered for her. “Dad?”

“Well,” she began, “you two have never gotten along and he thought it might be better coming from me.”

“What might be better?”

“You know your father has always wanted to try his hand at something a little different.”

“Like being a coroner?”

First she looked stern, then she gave a little laugh. “I meant with his restaurants.”

“That’s down to Uncle Van.” But why Alder Van Holtz would want to change the theme of their restaurants when they were doing so well, Ric didn’t know. To quote Dee-Ann, “If it ain’t broke, leave it the hell alone.”

“He knows that. But nothing can stop him from doing something on his own.”

“Absolutely.”

Ric did all sorts of things on his own and Uncle Van never once complained, which he appreciated.

“And he has some backers already who are more than willing to invest in a new restaurant.”

“A new restaurant? Now?” In this economy? Ric was just grateful the Van Holtz Steak House and Fine Dining chain was doing so well despite everything else that was going on. But shifters did like their

“natural” foods, as they called it. Polars wanted their seal blubber, lions wanted their gazelle legs, wolves wanted their deer marrow. . . .

“I know it sounds very challenging. He understands that, but he’s really got some great ideas and plans—”

“But?”

“He could use another backer.”

“Preferably his son, who he probably won’t bother paying back because he wants to believe that my money is his money?”

“Ulrich—”

“Mom.” He crouched in front of her and took her small hands into his own. “I know you want to help him, and maybe he’s got the best idea for a new restaurant chain that will make him a ton of money. And maybe it would be something I’d love to invest in . . . if I trusted him. I don’t trust him.”